Lady Death by Brian Drake (good e books to read .TXT) 📕

She smiled and ate some more.

Omar wiped his mouth and sipped ice water. He set down the glass. “How much did you tell the Americans about the new mission?”

Omar didn’t know anything about Operation Triangle. Tanya and the IU leadership planned the mission while he was in custody.

She said, “Only the name.”

“Are you sure—”

“We aren’t using our people, Omar.”

“Then who are we using?”

“It’s brilliant,” she said. “We’ve hired mercenaries, Omar. White men.”

“Infidels?”

“Who are being well-paid to carry out a mission. We found cutthroats who have no loyalty to the United States whatsoever. They share more of our hated for the west than you realize.”

“What purpose does this serve?”

“Think it over, Omar. The Americans will break their necks looking for leads. They’ll harass our people, take prisoners, ask hundreds of questions. They won’t find any answers.”

“Because we’re using white men.”

“Exactly. The CIA will chase their tail, miss clues, and thousands will die. It’s our crowning achievement.”

“It’s our death sentence.”

She shrugged. “Our point will be made.”

“And the point is?”

“They should never have killed my husband.”

“Or Francesca’s.”

Pain flashed across Tanya’s face. She put her fork down and sighed. “Yes. Or Francesca’s.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Francesca is gone, Omar. She died in a drone strike.”

Omar blinked.

“She posed as me,” Tanya said, and explained how she used Francesca’s story to pass her off as the real leader of the Islamic Union.

“She volunteered?” Omar said.

“She never recovered from Tamal’s death,” Tanya said. “It was too much for her. She wanted to be with him again.”

“A supreme sacrifice.” He picked up his water glass. Tanya lifted hers and they toasted their fallen comrade.

“It was enough,” she said, “to get me inside. To get you out.”

“I’m not sure I’m worth the cost.”

“You are to me,” she said. “I’ve already lost Ahmad. I wasn’t going to lose you too.”

She pushed the remains of her plate to him. He set his empty plate aside and ate some more.

Tanya swallowed some water and watched Omar. He kept his eyes on his plate. She hadn’t planned on falling in love again after Ahmad’s death at the hands of the Americans. Her meeting him had been out of necessity as he carried out logistical operations in Europe. She’d immediately been smitten the confident operative with the hot brown eyes.

She struggled with the attraction at first. She felt like she was betraying Ahmad. But he’d have wanted her to be happy. She gave in, and Omar responded. They’d seen each other as much as possible until his capture.

The differences between Ahmad and Omar were huge. Omar was more careful. Ahmad had too much rage inside him, rage fueled by the murder of his grandfather. It made him reckless and ultimately cost him his life. Omar was focused, calculating, cold. Emotions did not affect him.

There was no going back now. The Americans knew who she was, and she’d embarrassed them. They’d rattle every cage to find her again. Her only course was to remain in hiding. She hoped the island headquarters provided long-term sanctuary. And if they ever tracked her down, the island provided many means of escape. She also considered altering her face. It might be the only way to avoid the CIA’s kill squads and remain a thorn in their side.

But she could figure out those options later.

Right now, she had Omar back. Operation Triangle was underway. Nothing else mattered.

But Sam Raven wasn’t far from her thoughts, either. She’d made a fool of him. He’d be looking for her too. And he might prove much more resourceful than the entire CIA.

5

Hugo Schrader ate the same sandwich for lunch every day.

Turkey, mustard, slice of cheddar cheese on wheat bread. Bottle of mineral water and an apple. Every day. He liked order and routine. Now and then proper business forced him to have lunch with clients or prospects. Those meetings might take place in fine restaurants, but the change in routine made the rest of his day difficult. Change threw him mentally off-balance.

Order and routine. Attention to detail. He’d avoided prison by sticking to rules. He’d become successful adhering to similar rules. At 75 years of age, Hugo Schrader saw no reason to change.

His hair hadn’t fallen out, but most of the dark hair of his youth was gone, replaced by gray.

Schrader’s vibrant eyes missed no detail. His close examination of even the smallest item added to his aura of power, his confident stride. He’d proven himself long ago. Now, he was the aged lion the young pups looked up to.

He sat at his desk in the corner office of a skyscraper overlooking the Spree River. Schrader Venture Capital was the largest such firm in Germany. The previous year, they’d seen 2.3-billion euros in profit from start-up investments. There’d been a few losers, always were, but the winners made up the difference.

He watched the boats below while finishing his apple. There had been a time when his daughters leaned against the glass to watch the boats too. They’d mark the glass with their fingerprints and breath. Those days were over.

Tanya was across the world fighting the revolution.

His youngest, Hannah, barely spoke to him.

He tossed the apple core and sandwich bag in the wastebasket beside his desk. He then used a spritz of Windex and a microfiber towel to clean the top of his glass desk. He placed the Windex and towel in the bottom drawer. The intercom on his desk buzzed. He pressed the button. “Yes?”

“Mr. Dassler to see you, Mr. Schrader.”

“He doesn’t have an appointment.”

“He says it’s urgent.”

Schrader frowned. “All right.” He switched off the intercom and straightened his tie.

The door opened and Phillip Dassler entered the office. He was Schrader’s IT specialist and managed the crew who made sure the company’s computer systems functioned without hiccup.

He aided Schrader’s side activities, too. Schrader had a sinking feeling his “urgent” visit meant bad news.

Dassler sat only when invited, and Schrader faced him across the clean glass top. “What is it?”

“We’re being raided.”

Schrader sighed. Dassler was thirty years younger, full of youthful